


pull the strings

by GarbageCompactor3263827



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Puppet History (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Annabelle ships it, Crack Treated Seriously, Demonic Possession, Episode: s05e08 The Demonic Curse of Annabelle the Doll, Getting Together, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Possession, Puppet History, Unresolved Sexual Tension, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24583495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbageCompactor3263827/pseuds/GarbageCompactor3263827
Summary: Sadness permeates the air around them, bitter to the Professor's senses and they looks up from where they're perched on the bag, levitating the puppet into the air and ready to level a curse that ends bloodlines upon the camera man when Shane reaches out and catches the puppet."Wow, the wind is crazy up here," Shane laughs, tamping down on his disappointment.The wind? God damned skeptics(Or, that time Annabelle ships two idiots hard enough to leave the Raggedy Ann doll to possess the Professor instead)
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 41
Kudos: 260





	pull the strings

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if this will make as much sense if you haven't seen at least one episode of Puppet History on the Watcher Network as the Professor is a character from that. If you only pick one, The Dancing Plague is my favorite. 
> 
> First time writing in this fandom, please be kind.

This is how it begins

Ryan is slow to wake up in the morning. He blinks his eyes a few times, groaning with a dry mouth that he soon discovers to be a fuzz filled mouth. There's something on his face and he bats at it, jerking to the side as his hand comes in contact with something solid. Whatever it is flies off his bed and to the floor next to him. Wiping at his mouth and spitting out bits of fuzz, he leans over the side of the bed and sees the slightly offset eyes of the Professor staring back at him.

_ What the fuck _

A frown makes its way onto his face as he reaches down to grab the light blue, fuzzy puppet, groaning as the satchel at its side opens and jelly beans spill out onto the questionable hotel room carpet. A knocking comes at the door and Ryan huffs and flops back down on the bed for a moment before gathering himself and pulling himself up out of bed. Cracking the door open, he sees Shane standing there with two cups of coffee. 

"Lose something last night?" Ryan grumbles, opening the door wide enough for Shane to come in, and thrusting the Professor up at Shane as he takes the cup Shane holds out to him.

"Oh, hey Professor." Ryan can't decide if it's obnoxious or endearing when Shane talks to inanimate objects. "What are you doing here?"

"How did you get into my room?" 

"You okay there, buddy? You just opened the door and let me in."

"What-? No, last night. The Professor wasn't here when I went to bed. How'd you get into my room?"

Shane raises an eyebrow at him, and Ryan wants to flick it off his face. His eyes quickly dart around the room, and Ryan sees him focus on the small pile of spilled jelly beans.

"Ryan, do I need to disinfect the Professor?"

"... I swear to god, Shane."

"Well you shouldn't do that, he might not save you when the demons show up."

Ryan groans and throws his head back, wincing as his neck pops. Taking a sip of his coffee, he savors the warmth of the drink compared to the cold room. He's not wearing a shirt, just the basketball shorts he slept in, and right about then realizes just how cold the room is. Which is strange as he definitely had the heat running last night, as he was chilled from filming outside in the cold December air.

"What did you do to your hip?" Shane reaches toward Ryan's hip, stopping just short of touching him. 

Ryan's cold enough he can feel the heat of Shane's hand and he takes a step back as he stares down. Three small parallel cuts are right above his hip bone and he reaches down to poke at it. 

"I don't know," he mumbles, wincing at the poke. "Must have scratched myself in my sleep."

"Ryan."

There's something in the way Shane says his name, voice a little lower, a little softer than normal, that carves something hollow in Ryan's chest. There's not a word he can put to the feeling, or at least not a word he's brave enough to assign to it. Shivering, he reaches for the shirt he threw on the ground last night and pulls it on.

There's a crackling noise and Shane startles and drops the Professor to the floor, shaking the hand that was holding the puppet out.

"It shocked me." Shane offers in explanation as Ryan lets out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Bergara." 

From its spot, face down on the floor, the Professor lets out a silent scream of never ending frustration.

  
  


*

That's not how it actually starts. 

It starts in the late spring in Connecticut when two men with sexual tension thick enough to cut with a knife between them come into their current waiting place with a camera crew. The box doesn't actually contain them, they can come and go as they please - and has, many times- but they like to return to the strange museum to wait for more unsuspecting victims. They're old enough they don't remember their name, but the humans refer to them as Annabelle and they don't mind that name. 

At first, Annabelle thinks the boys are annoying. The two idiots shine flashlights around and have a loud, obnoxious tool called a spirit box, but there's something temptingly delicious connecting them and Annabelle wants to consume it. Plus, the fear the shorter one radiates is more than enough to satiate Annabelle for a trip outside the museum. If someone is going to pull their strings, who or what better than a doll?

At one point, the camera crew leaves and the tall one, Shane, is alone. He seems to be goading Annabelle, but it's not working. It takes a lot more than a gangly skeptic to make Annabelle do more than flicker lights or cast a few longer shadows. But when the believer, Ryan, creeps in alone and emanates the sweet and sticky aroma of fear, Annabelle flickers a few lights. Ryan jumps, letting out a small shriek, and Annabelle uses the distraction to leave the doll and gently lodge within Ryan. Ryan, for his part, coughs and shakes his head, but doesn't seem to notice.

_ This is going to be fun. _

*

This is not fun, Annabelle decides a few days later. Normally, if Annabelle was bored, they'd simply leave their host and catch a ride on another living being or inanimate object before getting to wherever they wanted to be. Annabelle spent most of their younger years in Europe, where finding humans to possess was somewhat difficult as many wore crosses or spent time on consecrated ground, preventing Annabelle from possessing them. The United States, however, didn't hold those same old beliefs and human possession was much easier. Unfortunately, upon returning from Connecticut, Ryan had donned a cross necklace, effectively protecting him from demons wanting to possess his body but also trapping Annabelle within and keeping them from leaving.

_ Fucking loopholes. _

Instead of leaving, traveling around for a few months before returning to Connecticut, Annabelle quietly settles into Ryan's body. It's a shame really as Annabelle was considering a trip to Florida to just watch Floridians be Floridians, but Annabelle is stuck watching a slow burn romance in first person. Annabelle wonders if they're being punished for something. They've tried to possess Ryan's mind a few times, to try to set things in motion, but the cross keeps them from a full on possession. What fresh hell is this.

From their Ryan shaped jail cell, Annabelle suffers through a southern California summer where Ryan and Shane seem to tiptoe around at work with some big secret. Annabelle is a little peeved that they're unable to access Ryan's mind, but after realizing Ryan spends an awful lot of time staring at Shane and doing reps at the gym, Annabelle is glad they're spared what must be an inanity. Annabelle isn't sure what the secret is, but knowing first hand that they're not hooking up outside of work, Annabelle knows it's not relationship related.

A few more months go by, and in early fall, Annabelle realizes Shane and Ryan are breaking away from whatever job they have to form something of their own.

They still haven't confessed their feelings for each other. Annabelle has suffered through long meetings full of stolen glances, touches that last a little too long, and one night too many of Ryan alone in bed with Shane's name on his lips as he finds release.

On one cloven hoof, "These fucking love-struck idiots," Annabelle thinks, but on the other hoof, "Thank Beelzebub I don't have to watch them fornicate."

*

It's not as if Annabelle has a fetish for dolls. They're easy to possess, and if they belong to a child, they tend to be dragged everywhere the child goes, exposing Annabelle to a variety of potential hosts as well as plenty of emotions to eat. Children frighten easily and their fear is so pure it's practically calorie free. Not that Annabelle needs to watch their weight as demons don't have those mortal issues, but Annabelle's had enough of good clean fear and wants something heavy, dirty. Sinful, if you will.

Lust is tasty, but it's been months of not acted upon Lust at this point and Annabelle's lost a taste for it. 

It's right about that time, when  _ the boys _ are setting up their new studio, that The Professor makes his appearance and something curls somewhere in Annabelle's decidedly-not-soul. 

_ mine.mine.mine.gimme.gimme.gimme. _

It takes another week of waiting, for Ryan to take off his necklace in the shower and for his water bottle of all things to be close enough for Annabelle to possess. Three days of Ryan thinking his water tastes a little bit off is as much mischief as Annabelle can do in this form but luck is on their side as Ryan forgets his water bottle at the studio. That night, Annabelle frees them from the metal bottle, and intertwines them into the Professor's plush body. 

_ Ooooo soft… are these jelly beans in this bag?  _

Annabelle, now the Professor, settles in and waits.

*

And so it goes.

Shane throws the Professor into his bag as Ryan grabs clothing for the day and jumps into the shower. It's kind of weird, Shane will admit, to sit around Ryan's room waiting for him instead of going back to his own, but he's kind of a weird guy and also doesn't really care if anyone thinks it's weird. He lets a smile spread across his face as he thinks of Ryan snuggling the Professor as he sleeps at night. Removing the Professor from his bag, he rights the puppet's glasses and fluffs its fur back out. Pulling the puppet on over his hand, he raises an eyebrow at it.

"At least one of us is getting action," he says with a sigh.

"I'm not a coward," Shane imagines the Professor responds.

"Well that's not… nice," he says with an even bigger sigh. "Not that I'm jealous of a puppet."

Listening to make sure the shower is still running, Shane quickly takes a sniff of the Professor to see if it smells like Ryan. His hand spasms and the Professor seems to slap and then backhand Shane across his face as his thumb jerks inward and then back. Pulling the puppet off, he pokes at his hand and rolls his wrist a few times to make the spasms stop.

"I guess I'm just falling apart," he tells the Professor with a nonchalant shrug. 

"What?" Ryan calls from the bathroom where the shower has stopped.

"I'm going to go grab something from my room," Shane says a bit louder, before making himself scarce.

When Ryan comes out of the shower, the Professor is sitting on top of the desk, jellybeans in a ring around it. 

"That idiot," he says, voice nothing but fondness and if puppets could puke, the Professor would be vomiting everywhere.

When Shane returns to grab Ryan and the Professor, the jellybeans are neatly tucked back into the satchel and the Professor gleefully cackles as Shane eats one of the fallen floor candies. Not very high on the evil scale, but the Professor will take what they can get.

*

The Point Sur lighthouse is up on a cliff and in December, the wind coming in off the ocean is like a sharp razor. Shane is, of course, used to his midwest winters and thinks little of it, bundled up for the chill. Ryan -despite a sweater, coat, hat, gloves, scarf, etc- is pretty sure he is going to freeze to death as they try to find the right angle to film their scenes. 

Ryan doesn't freeze, not even a hint of hypothermia, but that doesn't stop him from shivering all afternoon.

"This is dumb, why isn't this behind the rock and protected from the wind," Ryan grumbles, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck.

"How would the ships see it if it was behind the rock?" Shane deadpans.

"I don't… shut up Shane."

Shane laughs and from the bag, the Professor senses an opportunity. Slowly crawling out from the bag, the Professor makes sure no one is watching before it slips out of the puppet and into Shane. Skeptics aren't fun to possess, there's something off putting about the way their souls feel and their emotions taste, but that distasteful feeling is nothing compared to watching these two idiots avoid each other.

The Professor didn't sign up to be a matchmaker, but here we are.

There's a scale possessions fall on. For the past few months possessing Ryan, the Professor would say that's 5%, more of a parasite than a possession. Crawling on the ceiling and speaking in tongues, that's closer to the other end of the scale. Possessing Shane is maybe 45% as the Professor wills Shane to wrap an arm around Ryan and shield him from the cold.

"Thanks big guy," Ryan mutters into Shane's shoulder. 

Shane opens his mouth to blame the wind or something, but the Professor  _ strongly suggests  _ that Shane not cockblock himself and simply enjoy the moment. Satisfied, the Professor retreats back to their puppet form and watches the two.

While it can simply be construed as a friend helping another, the Professor feels happiness coupled with anxiety/fear/ _ I-don't-want-this-to-end _ pouring from the not-yet-couple and feasts on it like a starving man. It's a pretty sight, the two of them with the ocean behind them and the sun just starting it's descent toward the western horizon. If the Professor was into romance, they would think the two men were cute. But the Professor was simply into getting them to the physical lust stage so they could dine upon that sin. Mmmm like a good champagne that would be, or a nice chianti.

"Uh, guys," one of the camera men interrupts the moment, and Shane drops his arm. 

Sadness permeates the air around them, bitter to the Professor's senses and they looks up from where they're perched on the bag, levitating the puppet into the air and ready to level a curse that ends bloodlines upon the camera man when Shane reaches out and catches the puppet.

"Wow, the wind is crazy up here," Shane laughs, tamping down on his disappointment.

_ The wind? God damned skeptics _

*

"Why'd you bring the Professor?"

It's around midnight and Ryan and Shane are laying in their sleeping bags after using the spirit box to try and find ghosts haunting the lighthouse. There are a few lingering, but they see the Professor and take off to spend the night floating around uselessly somewhere else. 

'That's right, fear my tiny fuzzy face,' the Professor chuckles, rubbing their plush paws together. 

"I didn't bring it, I thought you did."

"I outgrew sleeping with stuffed animals or puppets while I was still in single digits." 

Silence falls between them. The Professor takes the cover of darkness as an opportunity to slip from the puppet into their shadow form and shake the windows and cause the floorboards to creak. They hear Ryan shuffle around, and what had been a slow but steady stream of fear becomes a roaring river.

"It's just the wind."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

The Professor phases through the door and rattles the handle from the outside while letting out a demonic, ergo inhuman, scream. Ryan shrieks inside and the Professor slides back into the lighthouse and back into the puppet. Once inside, the Professor sees Ryan has wrapped himself around Shane like an octopus and won't let go. If their emotions are anything to go by, Shane is perfectly okay with that. A top note of lust is making itself known over the terror and the Professor is hoping it develops into something more. 

"Ryan," Shane whispers, his lips just brushing the top of Ryan's head, "it was the wind, maybe an animal."

Ryan is shaking too much for his words to make much sense, but the Professor thinks he says something along the lines of "no animal makes a sound like that".

Ryan's heart is beating so fast the Professor can hear it and they're almost afraid Ryan's having a panic attack. Before it can escalate to that, Shane pulls Ryan off of him and tells him to wait just a few minutes. Unzipping their sleeping bags, he re-zips them together as one large sleeping bag and tucks Ryan into it before sliding in next to him. It's nauseating enough when Ryan's fear starts to quiet and slowly evolves into 'protected, safe', but the Professor almost incinerates the puppet when Shane grabs them and tucks them under Ryan's arm.

"There you go, the Professor will protect you. You know, unless he's possessed."

"Not funny, Shane."

"Can you imagine the Professor being possessed? Probably just not stop reading history facts to you. A cotton candy puppet monster."

"You're so weird."

"But you keep me around."

There's an awkward, tension filled pause and the Professor wants to be anywhere but the middle of it. 

"I do. Thank you Shane."

Neither says anything when Shane wraps an arm around Ryan and pulls him close. The anxiety tapers away and soon the lighthouse is filled with two content, sleeping men and one possessed and grumpy puppet.

*

Shane brings the Professor back to his apartment with him when they return to LA and the Professor buckles in for a fasting period. Shane doesn't radiate the emotions the Professor chooses to eat, but not eating for a year or a hundred won't really make too much of a difference to the Professor. They resign themselves to sitting on a shelf and gathering dust, not too different from their existence in Connecticut, watching Shane "write scripts" for something called "Puppet History". To prevent themselves from becoming too complacent, they still create small amounts of havoc that Shane normally blames on the cat. Obie gives the Professor a wide berth at first, but the Professor doesn't mind cats. There's a special type of evil they can bond over, plus Obie lets the Professor ride around on him like a war cat when no humans are around.

These few weeks of observing, snoozing, and war cat riding come to an abrupt halt when Shane pulls the Professor back onto his hand and begins practicing lines from his script. It is just then, the Professor realizes with a dawning horror, that they are to be used for some show Shane is putting on. It's bad enough the Professor has to watch Shane and Ryan bumble around each other like clueless idiots, they will not be made a mockery of in their current form. 

The Professor wouldn't say they're helpless, but they are too invested in having Shane and Ryan realize they want to sin to give up and leave now. And so they suffer through bright lights, Shane's hand in unmentionable places, and being laughed at. The Professor hopes he haunts the guests and viewers nightmares with their blank, dead eyed stare. They are strong enough to admit, albeit reluctantly, that Shane has done an excellent job writing the script. The propeller in particular is fascinating and the Professor wonders if that was a moment of possession and if they could meet a fellow creative demon. 

_ Ah to be evil and have dreams. _

Nights in the studio are long. As a new startup, Shane and Ryan are often there late along with Steven and a host of other humans. Sometimes it's all of them, but sometimes it's just Shane, Ryan, and Steven. As January turns to February and something called Coronavirus starts to spread, Steven heads to stay with family and in the name of social distancing nights become just Shane and Ryan. At first no one is too worried about Coronavirus, or CV19 as it comes to be called, but then the body counts start piling up. There is fear everywhere and the Professor is pretty sure they could travel the country without a host and there's enough fear to generate constant energy and at the same time, the streets are empty and no one would notice them. 

_ But. They. Are. Committed. To. Seeing. These. Idiots. United. _

As February turns into March and rumors of a mandatory Shelter at Home order come drifting in over social media, the radio, and the TV, the Professor wonders if they should reveal themselves to the boys and get this over with. It's almost been a year at this point and Shane and Ryan are only a little bit closer to admitting their feelings to each other. The Professor has a strong urge to reveal their true form, grab both of them, and smash their faces together while screaming "now kiss".

"You should shelter at home with Ryan to work on the channel," they whisper into Shane's ear at night as he sleeps. "All hail the Watcher." 

"All… hail… the Watcher," Shane mutters back as he snorts and rolls over, still in deep sleep. "All.. hail… wa..er."

The Professor slaps him with a plush hand, Shane doesn't react.

Not phased in the slightest, they steal away to Ryan's apartment one night in his gym bag. Once Ryan is asleep the Professor spends the night whispering about moving in with Shane and particularly lewd sexual acts. Ryan spends the next day wandering around like a zombie, throwing weird looks at the Professor as Shane fiddles around with a new script.

"Hey, so they're saying we have to shelter at home starting this Thursday," Ryan brings up as they eat lunch on a Monday morning. "And I was thinking, and you can totally say no or it's weird, but I was thinking since we were working on the show, and maybe it's a weird idea but then I thought-"

"We should quarantine together to work on the episodes," Shane suggests. "Be quarantine buddies."

"Oh, yes. I would lov- like that."

"Great, well Obie has to come with me if I go to yours so it's probably easier if you come to mine." 

From the shelf, the Professor grins and rubs their puppet hands together. 

*

Ryan shows up with two suitcases of clothing, a gym bag full of shoes, and a half dead houseplant. Shane doesn't have a guest room, but he does have a king size bed he doesn't mind sharing as long Ryan doesn't snore. The first few weeks are the same lather, rinse, repeat of writing scripts, bouncing ideas off of one another, conference calls, at home filmed specials, and nights of video games, movie marathons, and takeout. 

The stolen glances are still there- Shane's lights up when Ryan gets excited talking about a new idea for the show or Ryan's soft smiles when Shane is rehearing scripts and doing weird voices- but the lack of action is driving the Professor crazy. They don't seem to notice how well they've found orbit around each other and the happiness emanating from them makes the Professor roll their stationary eyes. There's enough fear coming from the outside world to balance out the happiness in the apartment, but the Professor needs sin and they need it now.

One night the boys challenge each other to a drinking contest and the Professor thinks this might finally be the moment. Humans are stupid and need their inhibitions lowered to tell the truth, and nothing lowers inhibitions like alcohol. Shane has set up some strange contraption that makes water drip onto sugar cubes which dissolve into the green drinks, and the boys take turns slamming back the drinks like shots.

"I think, I think the Professor is glaring at me," Ryan slowly strings words together as the night continues on and Shane bursts out laughing. "Don't laugh at me, we've seen possessed dolls before."

"You think Professor McNasty is going to get you?" Shane can't stop laughing as he picks the puppet up and pulls it on, glasses going askew and bow tie crooked. "I'll possess you and eat your soul, Ryan." 

Shane's flapping his hand with the Professor on it in front of Ryan's face and Ryan starts laughing too, pushing it away.

"Don't make me go get my Holy Water guns."

_ Holy water what? _

"Oooooo, Ryan, I am the demon Professor McNasty, here to feast on your flesh."

The Professor takes advantage of their inebriated state and pulls Shane's hand toward Ryan until the puppet is laying against Ryan's cheek. All the demon has to do is set the stage and let the boys do the rest. It's Shane, not the Professor, who gently strokes the side of Ryan's face with a furry hand, Shane who takes a step closer and crowds into Ryan's space.

"Shane?" 

"Ryan, I-"

Shane doesn't finish as Ryan slumps forward into Shane's chest and starts snoring. Shane sighs, wrapping his other arm around Ryan to keep him propped up, the arm with the Professor dropping to his side and the puppet falling to the ground.

The Professor lets out a frustrated scream in the form of a jet of flame. Levitating up off the ground, the Professor pulls shadows from the darkness within and extinguishes all light sources except for the fire burning in their eyes. Leveling Shane with a glower that would send most men screaming and crying for their mothers, the Professor begins summoning lesser demons to help wreak havoc in the apartment.

That is, the Professor attempts to open a gate straight to hell, until Shane blinks at them and starts laughing.

"This absinthe is a little stronger than I thought," he says with a giggle. "Professor McNasty, are you the green fairy?"

The Professor is so gobsmacked they don't react when Shane bats them out of the way and drags Ryan into the bedroom. 

"Is he one of us?" One of the lesser demons asks, shrieking as the Professor sends fire spiraling toward them before banishing them all back to hell.

Once the living room is returned to its normal state, minus a few scorch marks, the Professor waddles into the bedroom and sees that Shane is now also passed out and wrapped around Ryan. 

'Fools,' the Professor seethes, tempted to burn this apartment down and be rid of them once and for all. 

Instead, the Professor levitates toward the kitchen and begins scheming.

*

This is how it ends.

Ryan is slow to wake up in the morning. He blinks his eyes a few times, groaning with a dry mouth that he soon discovers to be a hair filled mouth. There's something on his face and instead of batting at it, he nuzzles up against the warmth. This is fine for a few minutes until the warmth snuggles back and Ryan opens his eyes to see Shane staring back at him. Neither of them say anything, still half asleep and more than half hungover. Ryan is very aware of Shane's large hand on his hip, tracing lazy circles with his thumb.

"Shane," Ryan mumbles, voice low and heavy with sleep, "what did we do last night?" He shifts slightly, leaning more into Shane's touch. "Are we both naked?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," Shane responds, hand dropping a little lower. "I generally like to remember bedroom exploits. Maybe we were abducted by aliens. Not sore in the probing area though so maybe not." Ryan rolls his eyes.

"I… the Professor? I remember the Professor?"

"Ryan, your puppet kink is getting a little out of hand. I think you might like him more than you like me."

"Are you jealous?"

"That you might be more into a tiny blue puppet than me? Maybe." Shane rests his forehead against Ryan's. "I can be horribly possessive."

A smile breaks out across Ryan's face as he laughs. His breathing hitches however, when Shane's hand dips too low to be anything other than suggestive. 

"Tell me to stop, Ryan." 

Ryan doesn't say anything; he closes the few inches between their mouths and lightly brushes his lips against Shane's. A moan escapes him as Shane presses forward and slots their hips together. Throwing his head back, Ryan loses himself to the pressure building between them as Shane rubs them together. It's too early and they're too hung over for it to last very long, but they find their releases within a few seconds of each other and collapse against each other, breathing hard.

"I don't do one offs," Shane says after a few minutes, rolling onto his back to stare at the ceiling. 

"What do you do?" Ryan rolls onto his stomach and comes up onto his forearms to look at Shane.

"Exclusivity."   
  


"You think I'm sneaking out every night to hook up with randos?"

"I've seen how you look at the Professor." Ryan laughs at Shane's wry comment and is struck at how vulnerable Shane is at this moment, how insecure his voice sounds as if it's some big sacrifice to be head over heels for him. 

"It's the jellybeans, it's what keeps me hooked." Shane's smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. Throwing a leg around Shane's hip, Ryan moves as gracefully as possible (which isn't very as he's still hung over and in that post coital bliss phase) until he's straddling Shane and looking down at him. "I'm not going anywhere- both literally as we're still under a shelter at home order but also, I'm an idiot when it comes to you." 

"I won't argue with you there," Shane says wryly. "I'm an idiot when it comes to you too."

At the foot of the bed, the Professor is finally satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback welcomed and appreciated.


End file.
